football, not futbol

last night, my roommate schooled me in the way of american football. understand -- to him, it is an occult art, and so even i, one who has never even watched the "traditional" thanksgiving game, found that i was fascinated. i get it.

i'm sure my approach to "getting" football breaks every man law set forth by the man council and that, soon, the man council KGB/CIA will have pulled me into their next commerical wearing egg in my hair. there must be some rule against a bookish girl sitting on her flowered couch, listening to football but thinking about psychology and kinesthetic intelligence and then having the moxy to say that she "gets it."

but people. the amount of effort poured into creating a microcosmic battle in which men are arranged, forgive the cliche, almost like pieces of a chess set and then physically pitted against each other using pre-memorized tactical strategies while following this elaborate set of rules, rules that even assign penalties for "unsportsmanlike conduct" or "excessive celebration," is so ridiculous to me that it suddenly makes sense.

of course. of course you risk life and limb to get the ball 10 yards. of course.

i more or less expect, some day in the future, for some irate fan to throw a drink at me for asking too many questions. it's ok. i'll just wear a raincoat.